Poker Night (with the Lord of Evil)
by Anendda Rysden
Summary: Part 2 of the Lord of Evil series. Marceline was used to certain constants, certain infallible facts. Fact #38: Her dad was stuffy and boring. He did not hang out at Finn's house playing poker, and they most certainty weren't anything resembling friends. Note to Self: update Fact #38.


It had been an average, boring day up until then.

Until the Incident. Until what was seen could not be _unseen_.

Bass in one hand and a tote of snacks in the other, Marceline crossed the grasslands. It was a clear but moonless night, glacial winds sheeting down off the Ice Kingdom and causing the dark grass, nearly black in the gloom, to wave like the surface of a lake. Icy dew clung to every blade. Sniffing, Marceline paused just long enough to bare her fangs at a group of hapless bunny rabbits and continue on, giggling, as they scampered away.

The tallest thing for miles around, Finn's treehouse was easily spotted. By the time she'd reached the front yard, Marceline could smell something baking inside. Something with cinnamon. And apples. Through a gap in the curtains, Marceline could see Jake flitting about the stove, eyes and hands darting about, and generally looking mighty antsy. She grinned, showing teeth. If the dog was fussing about his cake, he was already worked up and, better yet, _distracted_. Easy prey.

Marceline levitated up and silently entered the house through Finn's bedroom window. She set her things on the bed, taking great pains to be silent on account of the dog's infernally good hearing. The scent of baked goods was much stronger now, as if oozing from every pore inside the comfortably shabby house. Floating her way toward the ladder, Marcy heard voices from downstairs.

"Heh, King-high flush, old man. Read it an' weep," said Finn smugly.

"Night's young, human. I wouldn't get cocky," a man's voice replied, velvety as roses left on a grave. Marceline came to a screeching halt, her head cocked. No way. There was no way _he'd_ be here. Not without blood and screaming, maybe some demonic chanting for flavor – of which there was none, just the crisp shuffling of cards.

"Alrighty then. This amulet and… 5 rubies," said Finn.

"Call. Raise by two."

Something clacked against the table. If Marceline's heart still had the capacity to beat, it would've been pounding against her ribs. Inverting, she slowly lowered her head through the ladder opening. _There's no way it's him. There's just no way–_ Marcy froze, her pupils over-dilating. _It's him._ She nearly toppled out of the hole and onto the floor, which would have been a Very Bad Thing, because that was her freakin' _dad_ , all seven-foot-something of him, parked at Finn's kitchen table. Marceline's gob worked soundlessly as she tried to process this information.

That was her dad, the Deathless One. Lord of the Nightosphere and All Things Evil.

That was also her dad lounging in a scuffed wooden chair (tilted back and balanced on two legs) with his jacket hung over the back. She hadn't even been aware that thing came off. And if that wasn't enough, Abadeer's tie was loosened (Seriously, WTW!?) and the sleeves of his purple shirt were rolled up to the elbows, displaying some ridiculously expensive old-world timepiece with a leather band.

Across from Abadeer, Finn was carelessly adjusting the order of his cards, eyeing the older man with a positively wicked glint in his eye. The table between them was stacked with gold coins and multicolored gems the size of eggs. There was also a mummified hand, two extremely old-looking tomes, and several amulets, none of them cheap and all glinting balefully in the candlelight, full of latent magic.

"Hit me," said Finn.

Abadeer flicked him a card.

"I raise the Tome of Magius."

"You don't have that good a hand." Abadeer rumbled, amused.

"Maybe. How sure are ya?" Finn's eyes winked in the candlelight, issuing his challenge. By way of an answer, Abadeer picked up a ring mounted with an oversized ruby and lobbed it to the center of the table. Finn laid his cards out with a flourish. "Straight."

Abadeer smirked, revealing a mouthful of fangs. "Full house," he said. "Foolish meatbag."

Finn was disarmingly casual about the loss. "We'll see," he quipped, piling the cards together and beginning to shuffle as Abadeer raked his winnings to his side of the table, reaching over to pour a dusty bottle of liquor into the mug at his elbow. A mug, Marceline realized, blinking rapidly, shaped like a pineapple. A freaking _pineapple_. She frantically rubbed her eyes.

In conclusion, that was her dad chillin' at Finn's house. Playing poker.

"Jake!" Finn called, dealing out the cards. "How's that pie coming?"

"Okay. I guess." Jake nervously eyed the pair from his place near the stove. Marcy suddenly had an inkling as to why the dog was so fidgety and she nearly laughed as he crab-scooched his way to the cupboard, unwilling to present his back. Finn scoffed good-naturedly. "Dude, he's not gonna eat you," he chuckled. "Raise you by three."

"He might," Jake protested sharply, his large eyes narrowing. "Finn, don't you trust this creep, ya hear me? Whatever he wants to bet , I guarantee ya it ain't wholesome."

Abadeer flashed his teeth. "The dog has an excellent point, Finn," he leered, tossing a matching bet into the pot. "What say we spice this game up a little? Say… your immortal soul?"

Finn studied his cards. "Mmm. Whadaya give me for it?" he said

"Finnnn," Jake moaned.

Abadeer considered the question. "My Nightosphere amulet," he said at last, and for the first time, Marceline noticed the ornament had conveniently slithered free of his shirt. The nameless stone flashed seductively, orange with a suspended miasma of violet, glowing with it's own deep, inner fire. Finn gave the amulet a speculative look. "Risky bet," he commented.

"Only if I loose," the Lord of Evil reminded him.

Jake's bulbous eyes dilated even further, his breath coming in short pants. One hand slithered back to grip an iron skillet, ready to bean Abadeer over the head. Oblivious to the brewing violence, Finn cracked a gap-toothed smile and shook his head, placing a stack of coins mid-table. "Think I'll pass, dude," he said. "I kinda need that soul to run my meat-suit, and my meat-suit's gots things to do."

Abadeer leaned back. "Another time then," he said smoothly. "Call; raise you by the Blade of the Darkmoon." He pushed a tattered, oily-looking scroll across the table, black ribbons dragging. Finn's eyes tracked it the entire way.

"Raise." He placed a delicate green ring on the pile. "Let's see em'."

Marceline had no idea who won that hand, because at that moment, Jake gave a loud, blood-curdling shout. Startled, she dropped several feet out of the hole before remembering to right herself.

"Dagnabbit, Marcy," Jake hissed, smacking the skillet back on the stove. A good thing, too, as Marceline was pretty sure she'd been about to have it introduced to her face. "I'm worked up enough as it is without you slithering outta holes," the dog continued to holler. "You're gonna give me a heart attack! I got kids, man!"

Finn hooted at them both. "Been wondering how long you were gonna lurk there," he said.

Cheeks flushed, Marcy righted herself, embarrassed enough to consider jumping out the window. "Hey, Finn," she muttered, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. Her eyes narrowed at Abadeer. "Dad," she added, rather sullenly. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," said Abadeer, suddenly exhibiting that overprotective, rather patronizing suspicion common to the parental unit. "What were you doing upstairs, Marceline?" There was something in his tone that drew to mind all sorts of... _interesting_ allegations, not the least of which was the way Abadeer gave Finn a rather dangerous look, heavy with the promise of violence. Marceline decided to ignore that.

"Getting ready to leap on me, probably," said Jake mutinously.

"I come around here all the time, so lay off. Geez," said Marceline, folding her arms across her sweater. "Since when are you and Finn such good _buddies_?" She hadn't meant to sound so annoyed, but the thought of Finn and her dad being friends was just weird.

"I dunno. Just happened somewhere I guess," Finn answered with a shrug. Marceline's lips pursed, unsure why she was mad, only that she was. Abadeer was supposed to hang with stuffy old bags like Death and PepBut, not move in on _her_ homies.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be so like that," Finn admonished, seeing her grumpy pout. He booted an extra chair out from the under the table. "Jake's got some pie coming, so have a seat and watch me clean your old man's clock." He flashed her a winning smile. "Your deal, dude," he reminded Abadeer.

"Mmm." With a voiceless hum of acquittal, Abadeer relaxed back into his chair. Marceline felt bizarrely let down by his lack of protest. She'd never seen anybody smooth her dad's feathers quite so easily. After the next hand had been shuffled, Abadeer laid his cards on the table and reached around to pull a silver case out of his jacket. Opening it, he pulled out a cigarette, casually tapped the filter side against the case, and lit it with an antiquated human flame-box, the crisp _snap_ of it echoing sharply in the stillness.

"Dude, no smoking in the house," Jake grumbled, too low for anybody but Marcy to hear.

"Seriously, why bother with that?" She demanded, feeling antagonistic. "You could've just used a fire spell."

"Ruins the fun," said Abadeer lightly, exhaling a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. It inexplicably reminded Marcy of cherries and leather, of distant memories of being seated on her father's lap while he read to her from one of his many tomes. They'd been as boring as hell, but she'd liked it anyway – because sometimes he'd do all the funny voices. The pinch between Marceline's eyebrows receded, her irritation draining away.

"Geez, you are so _old_ ," she muttered, but the heat had gone out of her voice. Grabbing the chair Finn had offered, she spun it around and seated herself backwards, chin resting atop folded arms. She heard the dog mutter something less than complimentary, giving the table one last, seditious look before bending to check inside the oven.

"I call," said Finn, selecting a handful of emeralds.

Marcy spent the next half hour trying to figure out their monetary system, because how did an Estus Ring and two diamonds stack up to a vial of lyrium? What was the exchange rate here and moreover, how'd they both agree on it without quibbling? Surely that musty old scroll wasn't as valuable as a bracelet made of solid mythril! Was the bet subjective then, based on how badly the other guy wanted it? Marceline found herself scooching closer, intrigued. She was, albeit grudgingly, willing to admit that her dad was pretty wicked when it came to cards – something a scowling PepBut had often testified, leaving the Nightosphere with his wallet significantly lighter than when he'd ported in – but Finn was maintaining steady ground as the valuables ebbed and flowed across the table.

Abadeer took a sip from his pineapple. "I fold."

"Getting desperate, old man?" Finn asked slyly, gathering the cards for a reshuffle.

"Keep that optimistic spirit in mind, human. It will taste better when I crush it."

Mismatched plates in hand, Jake edged closer to divvy out wedges of pie, oozing apples and melting vanilla ice cream. The hour grew late, and the game grew hotter. Abadeer lit another cigarette, leaving it in his mouth as he studied his cards. Marcy would have peeked, but for the last several hands, her dad had begun leaving them facedown on the table, checking them only by lifting the edges. Marcy could almost taste the rising tension in the air. She wasn't exactly sure why, but she got the gist that the niceties were over, that the bets were becoming more and more valuable – escalating from pocket change and shiny trinkets to things with some serious juju.

Finn set a tarnished metal orb in the center of the table. It looked completely unassuming, just a dirty old artifact scoured with deep whorls and rivulets all over its surface, though they formed no particular pattern. But even Marceline could sense how it thrummed with power, unheard, but felt in the currents it left in the air, the infinitesimal vibrations in the oaken table. Abadeer's eyes suddenly took on a dusky glow. He stretched one hand across the table, fingers not quite touching, and the sphere suddenly flashed a bright, almost acidic green, tendrils of energy snapping towards Abadeer's skin. Instantly, the light turned an incandescent red. Abadeer quickly took his hand away, fingers flexing.

"It was supposed to be destroyed," the Demon Lord breathed.

"I find lots of stuff that's supposed to be destroyed," Finn replied, his voice gone an octave deeper then normal, perhaps in deference to the magic silently crackling through the air, or perhaps because he knew that Abadeer had taken the bait. "Call or fold," he added.

Abadeer swallowed.

Finn's blue eyes twinkled.

"All in," the Lord of Evil announced quietly, shoving everything on his side of the table to the middle. Marcy's mouth dropped open ( _because weepin', creeepin' Glob, what was that thing?!_ ) but her dad wasn't finished yet. Abadeer made a fist and then opened his fingers with a sudden gout of magenta fire. A rough looking, asymmetrical red stone about the size of an egg was sitting on his palm. Carefully, he set it atop the pile. Finn wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. He met Abadeer's gaze.

"You must really like your hand, old man," he said.

"Why don't you find out?" Abadeer challenged.

Finn swept his winnings into the center of the table, nestling the mysterious orb against a bed of coins, gemstones, amulets and rings. "All in," he declared, drawing a sudden intake of breath from Jake. The dog had crept closer, his face pressed against the side of Marcy's arm in order to get a better view. On some other night, she might have pinched him or flashed her teeth, but the spell of the moment just couldn't be broken. Together, they leaned in towards the table, barely breathing.

Abadeer overturned his cards. "Straight flush."

"Oh." Finn's entire face fell. Jake cringed and hid his eyes behind a hand. "Oh, man… well, that's a shame, because," Finn smugly revealed his own hand, "Royal beats straight."

Abadeer gawked at the overturned cards for a minute, then dropped back into his chair with a creak. "You devious little fleshbag," he said, half in frustration, half in fascination. Finn grinned and encircled the pot with his arms, hauling it all to his side of the table. "Heh heh. Come ta' papa," he crowed, all smirks and crinkled, laughing eyes. "Whew. Good game, man. Ya really had me sweatin' there."

"Smug bastard," Abadeer muttered, but with no real malice. He took a last drag on his cigarette and snuffed it out next to the remains of his pie. Standing, he swooped his jacket off the back of the chair and hung it over one shoulder. "Savor your little victory, human. It will be your last."

"Uh-huh. Sure it will. Same time next month, Huns?" Finn asked, pronouncing it like " _huntz_ ". Macy couldn't believe her ears. Nobody called her dad that, not even PepBut. It was always Lord Abadeer, or sometimes just Abadeer. Never by his first name and absolutely not by some shortened, cutesy version of it. Surely, _surely_ now her dad would suck Finn's marrow out of his bones for the sheer gall of him.

"As you say," said Abadeer, leaving Marcy flabbergasted. "Especially if the dog will be cooking again."

"What, now I'm your freakin' chef?" Jake grumbled, but it seemed to Marcy that he wasn't really complaining. In fact, he seemed a little flattered. Abadeer suddenly burst into an inferno of reddish-black flames, flames that may or may not have licked a little closer to the table than was strictly necessary. Jake yelped and swatted at his fur. "Dagnabbit, Finn, I wish you'd tell him to stop _doing_ that!" he squawked after the Lord of Evil had gone. "Make him go outside and do his stupid thing. He keeps ruinin' my floor!"

Finn gave the ornate, sooty seal a dismissive look. "It wipes up," he said. "Long as it's not on the carpet."

"Dude, I just mopped!"

"Then mop there again."

"That's not the point. He's gonna set the curtains on fire!"

"He's never set the curtains on fire."

Marceline tuned out the sound of their bickering, trying to figure out what weird alternate dimension she'd stumbled into, a dimension where Finn and her dad played poker on a regular basis, where Abadeer was totally okay with stupid little names and Jake's homemade pie. So, did that make her dad a lot cooler or Finn a lot lamer? She nabbed what was left of Jake's pie (finders keepers and all that) and decided that either way, things were probably going to be interesting. 

* * *

_**How many cross-fandom objects can you ID in the poker pot? ;)**_


End file.
